In this suspended landscape, the idea of home appears only in shards – half-remembered, half-erased. Rooting once implied certainty, a place where memory could settle and grow. Yet here the connection splinters, scattered like remnants of a story that can no longer be held intact. The terrain moves between presence and absence, belonging and estrangement, reflecting the experience of migration or cultural displacement, where the past survives only in fragments. What remains is soft yet persistent: an origin dispersed, altered, but still quietly alive.
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